


Two Junkyard Dogs

by NothingSnow



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A very tired medic, Heavy pining, M/M, emotional breakdowns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-07-10 13:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingSnow/pseuds/NothingSnow
Summary: Gabriel Reyes is finally captured by Overwatch. But his various cybernetic augmentations and constant state of pain requires him to have medical care immediately. Can Lucio, the organization's youngest medic, help out?





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a compilation of RP between three people. As such, the POV will shift.

Lucio never was told the specifics of just _how_ the guy had been captured. He thought Winston tried to explain it, but the poor DJ got lost in the engineering and physics talk and simply nodded along, pretending to understand. He blamed it on not knowing English perfectly, yet-- he was _always_ learning. He’d been selected to inspect the patient and provide treatment-- Dr. Z had an ‘emotional attachment’ and wasn’t allowed.
    
    
              Agent Lucio, I have compiled a personnel file on the patient. You may want to read the information I have to assess the situation, better.
            

“Thanks, Athena.” Lucio called as he rushed to pick up his holopad, tapping away and skimming through the file at first, before slowing down to _study_ each bit of information. Gabriel Reyes, formerly the old Blackwatch Commander. _Blackwatch was that thing that got Overwatch in trouble before, right?_ He was now nearing sixty. Product of some classified genetic engineering back before Overwatch was even founded that even Athena couldn’t access. Some AI scans of him, pointing out key locations of interest-- the large metal plates on his back seemed to be some form of cybernetics. Brain scans indicate he’s in pain-- _a lot of it._ Biometric scans confirmed that despite the fact he wasn’t quite _human_ anymore, his hardlight tunes’d have a 98% chance of success in their designed purpose-- ease of pain and biological healing. Some news articles were thrown in-- sightings, kill counts, _Modus Operandi._ An incident file from years prior, and another penned by Winston himself. He was _dangerous,_ and he’d been put into a room to keep him contained. Airtight and strong enough to withstand any blows. 

At least he’d been given a _bed._ “Keep digging, Athena. I’ll go check him out-- lemme know if you find anything else, okay?”
    
    
              Yes, Agent Lucio. Good luck.
            

He tied up his ‘locs and retrieved his equipment. First things first-- deal with the patient’s pain. He was still _new_ here, dressed in doctoral scrubs that hid the fact his walking legs were cybernetic. He slung shoulder strap over his waiting arm, carefully hoisting it up onto his back-- before another piece of equipment joined the fray-- a digital keyboard, along with an amp to be plugged in to that hardlight converter generator. He slogged his way to the room in question-- armed guards posted outside the reinforced door. He flashed his security clearance card and entered. The room was divided into two-- a glass ‘case’ in the center held the patient in question. A rather comfortable looking bed had been moved in there-- an attempt to keep the patient comfortable. It was _bright,_ as though it was someone’s sick idea to have EVERY white light on in Gibraltar, in the same room. As he entered, he dulled the lights to a low, serene dim-- hopefully he wouldn’t feel like a _lab animal_ then. 

A calloused finger pressed at the intercom to speak through the bulletproof glass. “ _Hey!_ ” He spoke quietly, leaning over to set his things down. “ _I’m Lucio Correia dos Santos. I’ll be helping you out. You’re Mr. Reyes, yeah?_ ” It felt weird, speaking to a _prisoner_ like this. Despite everything, he was all smiles-- flashing his pearly whites and even the dimples that adorned his cheeks.

* * *

Reaper had fucked up. No, that wasn't right. Someone had outplayed him on the off chance he let his guard down enough to fuck up. Once he got out of here, he would make sure that the person who tricked him wouldn't be _breathing_ anymore. He'd make it ugly. If--....If he got out of here. The wraith didn't even know how long he had been in this _box_ \--is this how Overwatch treated all of their enemies now? Or were they laying on the special treatment for him? It didn't matter, as soon as someone was stupid enough to come close to him, he would end them. Reaper had a _task_ to do and it certainly wouldn't wait around for him while he was captured. This wouldn't be the end for him. It couldn't be. They had given him a bed and he wondered who was still around that cared enough to provide him with one. Though he didn't really _sleep_ anymore it was useful for him in some degree. His pain had been getting worse, more unstable; the farther he was away from Talon and their specialists, the higher it cost him physically and mentally. His body had exhausted itself after the first couple of days when he had constantly tried to escape but the pain still increased every day. It had become so bad one day he was unable to breathe entirely and that annoying AI had attempted to talk him though the panic attack. As if he needed help with that.

The first time that he had company that _wasn't_ the annoying as fuck guards, he had been trying to inspect the _cage_ they were keeping him in for any weaknesses for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He hadn't even noticed the younger male walk in until the lights dimmed. Huh, that was a first. His head swerved around at the first sound of an unknown voice and he assessed the other quietly. The accent wasn't something he could place easily, though he was sure he could if his entire body didn't feel like it was on fire. Reyes? No. That wasn't him any more. He didn't deserve that name anymore. He was The Reaper, death walking among the living. "I think you have the wrong person, if you're looking for Gabriel Reyes. He's dead."

* * *

“I’m pretty sure I got your name right. Sorry if I mispronounced it, though.” He chuckled a little, beginning his setup. A cord to the hardlight amp, a cord to the little boombox, a cord to the keyboard in question. “I got a _bit_ of a file on ya, something about a nickname of ‘ _Reaper._ ’ Pretty _spooky_ if you ask me. But it’s cool, though! I get having nicknames and stuff. You do some real impressive stuff.” His tone was soft, and it was honest-- guy had a high enough kill count and he never left any sort of evidence save for security cam footage. He could turn into smoke? That was so _cool!_

Though, with a cool ‘power’ like that, he had to get to the bottom of all that Talon had done to him.

“I use a music therapy that eases pain first and foremost, and then it speeds up biological healing processes-- _super_ noninvasive. Biometric scans said that it’s worth a shot. I’m here to help, if you don’t mind a little music!” He plopped down on his rump and pulled the keyboard onto his lap. He adjusted some dials, lowering the volume so that it was quiet-- soothing, for now. “I can play just about anything, so place your requests now, big guy!” He grinned once more, before setting in to play a classic-- Debussy’s Arabesque.  
[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVYH-7QGE-A ]

* * *

"No, I told you, Gabriel Reyes is dead. I am not that man. I don't deserve to have that name." Reaper bit back with a deep growl. He didn't need to think about his life as Gabriel, that was not a train of thought he could afford anymore. "I don't care what kind of file you have on me. Let me out of here and I can show you something really impressive, boy." He'd snap Lucio's neck in an instant. Still...he was curious. What kind of intel did the New Overwatch keep on him?

Music therapy? That was an interesting concept...who had developed that? Curiosity flooded through him as he watched Lucio work. "Wait-- you're going to use it on me?!" He wasn't as enraged as he was confused, though it probably sounded like he was definitely pissed off. "Who told you to do this?"

The moment the music began playing he felt it; he couldn't quite put into words how the music exactly helped, but it felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket after standing in the snow for far too long. His pain eased, almost magically. It wasn't gone entirely but it wasn't unbearable either. The soft melodies soothed him in a way he hadn't been able to experience in a long, long time.

Reaper was quiet for some time--simply allowing the music to wash over him. At some point he had moved to rest on the bed, though his guard was still up in case there was a catch to this treatment. When he finally spoke his voice was much softer than was typical for him. " _Why are you doing this...?_ "

* * *

“Naw, I can’t letcha out-- at least, not now. I’m just here to help ease the pain and see what I can do about your condition. I don’t think my keycard’d work on that door, anyway. Sorry, dude.” He half-lamented, his little musical ensemble going on for a few moments before he stopped, adjusting the settings on the amplifier, and then continuing without little more than a missed beat or two.

“I volunteered to be here.” He answered his two-part question, the smile on his face not waning as he looked up to the man in the glass room-- studying his features, the outfit, the mask, the whole ensemble in the dimmed light. It made him wish he could see his expression, but didn’t want to push his luck. “...Everybody needs a little pick-me-up, now and then. I heard you needed some serious help, so I’m here to do what I can for ya. So just sit back and chill-- I can stay as long as you want me to.” The song continued, and then dulled down and slowed-- nearing it's end.

“Hmm... Got any requests? I can try and play something you like.”

* * *

“Sure you can’t? You can turn around and say your hand slipped, or something. They aren’t too bright around here so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d you get away with it.” Reaper had turned desperate almost, fighting a losing against the calm that was settling around him. He was fighting against his gut reaction to relax—he couldn’t let his guard down. Still, it had been so long since his body hadn’t been in near constant pain that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

“Why would you volunteer for this?” His voice had regained its typical edge and though the younger male most likely couldn’t see it, his eyes were narrowed. “Who told you that, exactly? I don’t need any help. I don’t want help.”

Reaper was quiet for a moment, thinking if he had any songs that he wanted the male to play; there were a few songs that came to mind, but he knew he would regret revealing anything personal to his captors.

“My only request is that I _leave._

* * *

“I’m here cause I wanna be.” Lucio paused as the song came to a close, knowing that the amplifier’s wavelength’d keep the good vibes going for a few minutes between songs. “I like helping people. And you’re a guy who needs a hand up.” He looked earnestly to the masked man as he stared at him. Not breaking eye contact. “A lotta folks around here care about you. I don’t know you, so I could more easily treat you. ‘No emotional attachment’ rule and all.” He explained honestly, tapping a few keys with a nice-sounding chord every few seconds— as though he simply liked the noise.

“As for how I know this stuff, the base here has a fully functional AI. You had a bunch of scans taken about you. Biometric, mostly, but also hormonal readings and brain activity. I know you’re in a lotta pain, and I think it might have something to do with the cybernetics on your back.” He gestured with a little digit pointing to the Reaper, that same kindness plain on his features.

“I wanna help you. And the AI scans said you needed help. Once your pain is gone, I’m sure folks’ll wanna talk to you about stuff. I’m just a medic— I’m not a full agent yet. I’m sure they’ll let you leave as soon as that’s done. But first...” He shrugged, hopelessly optimistic, folding his hands in his lap before he scooted on his rump carefully closer to the glass of the ‘cage.’ “Did that song help with the pain at all?” He asked with concern, gesturing with a flourish to the keyboard in his lap. “Want me to keep going, or no?”

* * *

Reaper couldn’t understand the concept of someone wanting to help him anyone, it was an idea that had been lost in the seas of people only offering assistance in exchange for favors. It was something that simply never happened without expectations for more. “You can’t genuinely just like helping people, kid. What do you get out of it, huh? What are they paying you? I could triple it.”

Gabriel snorted at the thought of people in the new Overwatch still caring for him. “You’ve got to be kidding. No one around here cares for me.” He gestured with a wide sweep of his hand, a bitter frown on his lips despite his face still being hidden. “I’ve killed too many people, some of their own, for them to give a damn about me anymore. No, kid, they cared about Gabriel Reyes and like I’ve told you, he’s dead.”

He listened carefully to every word Lucio spoke—more seeking any hidden messages or secrets twisted in with the words. The AI? Of course the damned thing was still here. He had loathed it when the damn monkey integrated it into their systems years ago and it was no different now.

“It...was okay. The pain is manageable and I would like to see what...more music would do...” 


	2. Chapter 2

The masked man’s words seemed to reassure the little DJ, his smile that had faded when he had scooted up closer to the glass now returning to dimple his cheeks again. “Yeah! Okay! That’s great, man!” He shifted a bit, getting comfortable and mulling over what sort of song to play next.

His fingers twiddled a few stray notes as he thought, an audible “hmmm,” to himself, before he nodded. A moment to adjust the keyboard’s settings, and he went in-- the next song soft and gentle like the previous one-- though noticeably in a brighter, more energetic tone. It wasn’t a classic, but perhaps an older tune just the same.

“You like music?” He asked, looking up from the keyboard and up to the man behind the glass, not having to look at his fingers as he played. “Got a favorite genre?” He prodded with a cock of a brow, knowing it was an innocent enough topic. Maybe he could figure out a song or two for the next session-- maybe even mix something together to just sit in the room and play off the boombox, instead-- or leave something behind for him.

[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csXYMSHuoFU ] 

* * *

Reaper suddenly felt exposed, as if someone had strapped him down and was looking at him with a very fine microscope. He took a few, calculated steps back and eyed the younger man carefully. Even though he was very much feeling like a caged animal, he knew he could put a little bit more distance between them if he needed to.

Gabriel wasn't quite sure why he consented to hearing more--every instinct inside of him was urging him to fight back and escape. He would not be safe here, no one would. Gabe quickly squashed the tiny bits of hope that had been welling up in his chest; as amazing as this kid was, his music wasn't able to perform miracles.

The tune was something he remembered faintly from before; it was old, that was definitely something he could tell, but he couldn't quite place. Had someone played it for him recently? There was an itch in his brain, a barely there memory from before that was trying to claw itself forward after years of forced memory repression.

"I've heard that before I.." Reaper paused, considering Lucio's questions. "I like music. When I could listen to music I would play classical rock..or...or jazz. Jacked liked that genre more than I did, but I wanted to keep him happy."

* * *

Classic rock? _Jazz?_ He didn’t take the guy to be someone who liked jazz, of all things. He blinked as he watched the cloaked man in his room, studying every detail of his body language with an intense curiosity. It wasn’t full of malice, or spite-- an honest curiosity that actually caused him to stop mid-song-- the song cutting off just before a chorus and falling into silence as he moved away against the far wall of the room.

“I can stop if you want me to. Sorry if that song wasn’t to your liking.” He offered after letting the silence fall over the room for a moment. “Or… I can play something else?” Big brown eyes stared at him, almost embarrassed by everything. His lips pursed as he thought, his fingers deliberately off the keys.

He could do jazz! He didn’t know any classic rock by memory, but… maybe…

“And… if you don’t mind me asking, who’s Jack?” He asked almost timidly-- knowing he was prying. But if he could get him to open up, perhaps that was a good step in the right direction.

* * *

"You didn't have to stop."

It wasn't as if he minded the song, it was just attempting to pull forward a memory that apparently his mind would rather keep locked away. He'd have to file away those thoughts for later. "I can't remember where I know that song from. It must have played on a radio or something."

Gabriel sighed as the silence brought back more space for his more uncomfortable thoughts. He had mentioned Jack by accident--he wasn't even supposed to think about the man in kind terms anymore. Reaper was only allowed to detest Jack Morrison, who was the top reason for Overwatch's downfall.

Still, he allowed himself a moment to remember the man fondly.

"Jack was my husband."

* * *

“Your husband?” Lucio asked, suddenly all the more interested in hearing the man speak versus himself playing. He moved the keyboard up and off his lap and to the side, lowering the volume and bringing his knees up to his chest, his arms coming to wrap around his legs as he looked up at the caped man in front of him. His prosthetics could just barely be seen under the hem of his medical scrub pants, the cris-crossed plasticine shining in the low light.

“Why don’t you tell me about him? I know thinking about the good times helped me get through the tough ones; It’s worth a shot, yannow.” He offered, big brown eyes blinking in curiosity up at him as he scooted a little closer to the glass, nearly touching it, now. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

* * *

Was it safe to tell anyone who was affiliated with Overwatch this? Reaper could never afford the luxury of recalling his marriage to anyone--not even those he was close to before the fall. The kid did say he had wanted to help and Gabriel was always a sucker for the puppy dog look.

"I was..married once. It was a secret. Only one other person was there besides me and him." He can still picture himself on that day; his palms were sweating so much as he got the ring out of his suit jacket that he had dropped it. It had taken him and Jesse ten minutes of searching to find it and he had nearly knocked the kid on his ass when had laughed in Gabriels face. At least Jack had kissed his bruised ego better....

"Jack and I were partners in the Omnic Crisis, we helped end it together. We weren't...romantic partners yet but we were a team. He had his sights on someone else anyway."

* * *

Lucio hung on every word, entranced by it all. He nodded along, silent as the masked man somberly recanted his story. Did this guy mean Jack Morrison? Athena’d given him all the files she could have had, and he knew at least that Reyes and Morrison fought in the crisis together. There was nothing on a wedding, but if Mr. Reyes had said it was secret… It made sense. “Sounds like you two were real happy.” He remembered his own parents and how happy they were before his mom got sick.

“What happened to him?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle-- as though he predicted what he was about to hear-- his head cocking to the side ever so slightly as he rested his chin on his knees.

* * *

“We were. He made me so happy.” There’s too many feelings crawling their way out of his chest, things that he had promised himself he wouldn’t feel again. His heart hammered too hard and his voice may or may not have cracked a little. “He made me feel like I was the most important person in the universe.”

His voice definitely broke then.

Lucio’s innocent question dropped him back into reality; it was like the Swiss Headquarters collapsing all over again. When did the walls start closing in? Why did he suddenly feel like he couldn’t breathe anymore?

“He died. It was my fault.”

* * *

Lucio blinked, his little theory on who this Jack person might be all but evaporating. “I heard about the Swiss HQ attack. Was that-- was that where it happened?” He asked, pursing his lips again. It felt rough to push for information, but he simply had to know. Why? It felt personal, almost, a connection. He knew all about getting people he cared about killed. Elisio and Giovane both were killed when they’d attacked the Vishkar HQ. They’d both been so much younger than him. Kids.

But he understood the sentiment. He understood the feeling. The guilt, the wanting to push the memory away. He got it. His tone reflected that, when his watch beeped loudly; Athena returning the cross reference he’d asked for.

“Do you mean Jack Morrison, Mr. Reyes?” He asked, bluntly, this time. “The old Strike Commander?”

* * *

The mention of where shocked him even more and he feebly clung to the wall of his small room. He visibly flinched and pulled away, beginning to pace around.

“He-..He was right there and then he wasn’t. I couldn’t find him.” That was as much of an answer he was going to give Lucio. He knew Jack was gone when he woke up alone, his entire body bloody and aching. Or did he see him? He couldn’t remember.

Jack’s name being spoken aloud hurt him even more. Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to speak anymore as he lowered himself down onto the floor, bringing his knees to his chest. He nodded and turned his head away.

* * *

Lucio nodded solemnly, tapping a request to Athena to page the person they needed-- immediately. This wasn’t something that could wait. His music’d only dull the pain for an hour, tops. He could maybe plug a few MP3s in to play as background noise.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay. If I could come in there I’d give you a nice big hug, okay?” He cooed, pressing his palm to the glass for a moment. “I’ll be right back. So sit tight, okay?” He stayed there for a few more seconds before pulling away, looking to the door and making his way out.
    
    
              Paging Jack Morrison to the ICU.

He waited just outside the door while Athena made the request privately, taking the time to convince one of the guards to give him the clearance key to get into the cell-- to which he pocketed, for now. He… might need it. The plan was already in place. The reunion should be easy.

He also had to talk to Jack before he entered the room. And so he waited, putting together a playlist in the meantime to plug into the amplifier he'd left behind along with his patient...


	3. Chapter 3

Jack's been shooting targets for hours. It's not like he can do much else. He's not the Strike Commander anymore so he doesn't have access to all the places he once did. At least Winston had given him his old room back. A kind gesture, but it felt wrong to be in that room alone. The same way it felt wrong to sleep alone and wake up alone. The same way everything about Jack's life has felt wrong for the past six years because the person who made his life complete isn't there.

Gabriel Reyes is dead. Jack wonders if it will ever stop hurting to acknowledge that. He doubts it.

The amazing, crazy, perfect life he had with his husband and their family is gone. Even being back at Gibraltar with some old friends and new faces has done nothing to comfort Jack. He's putting together a puzzle that has the most important piece missing. So, he goes to the place where it's just him and his gun and the newest target. By this point, Jack had gone through every simulation available to him.

"Time Athena?" He was barely out of breath as he walked around the bots and turrets he'd destroyed. The simulation he'd been doing was a simple one; just something to make sure his visor was fully functional.

"Two minutes and thirteen seconds," the AI responds coolly.

Jack smirks. "I've still got it."

Just as he's programming the next simulation into the range's computer, Athena speaks up. "Agent Lucio is paging you to the ICU."

That's strange. Why would dos Santos need him in the ICU? Angela had given Jack a physical not too long ago. Maybe something had come up that she hadn't noticed; though, that didn't seem very plausible. She knew more about his condition than anyone. Even so, better to go and see what the DJ medic wanted.

"Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes, Athena."  
She responded with an affirmative and Jack went to go get showered and changed. No reason to meet the kid when he was all sweaty and gross. It doesn't take him long. All his time in the military and SEP had trained him into taking quick showers. Gabe used to complain about that. Said that he wished Jack would relax more and really take his time when he had the opportunity. He'd never listened. It seemed he'd always had trouble listening to Gabe when things really mattered. Jack had reaped the consequences of those actions for the past six years. Probably would continue doing so for the rest of his life.

Once he was cleaned up, he put on some clean jeans, a soft t-shirt, and a flannel. Angela had convinced him to start dressing down when he wasn’t getting ready to go on mission or training. This is a safe place, Jack, she had said. _You can rest here._ Rest — a foreign concept to a man who had spent years fighting wars. Jack could never rest. Even if he completed his mission and made sure everyone who had ripped his family apart paid for their actions, Jack could never stop fighting. It was his nature now, to solve the world’s problems with a gun in his hand. Using it to take out those who hurt the innocent; those who didn’t protect the most vulnerable among them; those who decided they were better and deserved more than the people who lived and worked under their care. Soldier76 wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.He made his way through the halls of the Watchpoint until he reached the hallway where the ICU was located. He saw Lucio waiting for him. The kid looked a little nervous, bouncing up and down on his skates. “What’s the situation, kid?”

* * *

The room key felt… heavy in his pocket. His stomach was turning in knots, but in a good way. He was ecstatic, about to bring two people back together. He had brought a lot of people together, he supposed-- folks that had written to him on meeting their husbands and wives at his concerts, or saving lives with the power of music alone-- no hardlight amplifier needed. He understood. But never on this level, never this personal.

“Athena, do you think he’s stable enough to reintroduce them?” He asked as he’d waited, putting together a playlist on his datapad. “Do you think this is a good idea? That it’ll help?”
    
    
              It is worth a try. I do advise against allowing either of them entrance into the same room. The patient is--

“...Dangerous. I know.” He huffed, determination setting in, despite his nerves.

And then the man arrived. He greeted Jack with a handshake, gesturing him to step down the hall for a bit. “Sorry to call you here on such short notice, Mr. Morrison.” He bowed his head slightly, forgetting the dislike for such formality. “But… I’m gonna be real blunt here. I’ve got a patient in here that says he knows you and I just wanna make sure.” He paused, looking down to the datapad and flicking back to the file.

“You know... Gabriel Reyes, I assume?” He asked, looking back up to the American with a solemn furrow in his brow before shaking his head. “Of course you do. Nevermind. But he's here. And... He seems to think you’re _dead_ , Mr. Morrison.”

* * *

Jack swore his brain shut down a rebooted for a second because he truly didn't process what Lucio said. There was no way, there couldn't be. The explosion --- fire, heat, dust, debris everywhere. Screaming, so much screaming--- had brought the Swiss base down on both their heads and Jack had been the one to emerge from the rubble. Jack had lost everything that day, in a matter of minutes. Even now, years later, it seemed unreal. A memory so traumatic there were some days Jack wasn't sure he'd lived it. Maybe that was why he'd become a ghost of himself, why Soldier76 had been born. A man to whom nothing else mattered except the next mission to bring those who had wronged him to justice.

And Gabriel...

Gabriel had died and the thing that had emerged from the ashes and smoke of the Swiss base was something worse than death itself. The Reaper. The scars he'd given Jack in Cairo still smart when he thinks back to that voice.

"I know your every move before you even think it. Always have, always will."

Until just now, Jack had no idea they'd even managed to capture one of Talon's top agents. He wasn't really keeping up to date on what happened on missions outside the ones he'd been sent on. From the way Lucio was talking, he only knew the bare minimum of the history Jack and Gabriel had together. He didn't know the history between Soldier76 and the Reaper.  
Jack isn't sure how to approach this situation. Since the Reaper is in Overwatch custody, Jack is the one holding the cards. He can approach this situation however he wants to. Nearly unhinged anger feels like the best option.

For Lucio's sake though, Jack will remain calm for the moment. It's strange what he said, too, the thing about Reaper saying Jack was dead. Perhaps he'd only meant it in a metaphorical sense. For all intents and purposes, Jack Morrison is dead. It may be the name the soldier responds to when he's not on a mission, but the name is all that's left of Jack. The man who had that name died in an explosion at Overwatch's Swiss base after losing everything he cared about. All because of foolish pride.

This confrontation was the one Jack had been waiting for. It was time to face his greatest demon.

_"Take me to him."_

* * *

“Woah, woah, woah, there, Paul Bunyan.” He stopped the American, furrowing his brow and giving a rather rare frown. “I have got to know what’s goin’ on here, first. I’ve got Athena warning me this guy’s dangerous every minute or so, and a cold hard classified on nearly every page of his file.” He slapped the back of his fingertips on his datapad in exasperation. “I can’t let you go in there without a promise you’re not gonna start something.” He knew what a fight brewing looked like-- but the hot topic escapee in the other room seemed far more apologetic than this.

The guy needed help, not a beating.

“He namedropped you. You _specifically,_ Mr. Morrison. Guy was in _shambles_. I don’t know the _whole_ story between you two, but he told me a bit.” He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone-- and so he left out the specifics of what he did know. “...Now my music therapy can only dull aches for so long but it can’t bring someone back from the dead. You gotta fuckin’ _promise_ that you’re not gonna fuck with him.” He warned as threateningly as he could manage, pointing an accusatory finger up at the masked man in front of him. “He’s in a bulletproof case for crying out loud. Guy probably feels like a circus freak. Tell me what's going on, _first.”_

* * *

_Paul Bunyan. Really?_ Jack sincerely hoped that wasn't going to become his nickname with this kid.

How much did Lucio already know? The history between Gabe and Jack was long, and only a little bit of it truly happy. The history between Soldier76 and the Reaper was longer, and much of it violent. He had no idea how to reconcile the two. No clue how to tell this DJ he barely knew about all the pain and heartbreak Jack had gone through after losing the love of his life. It wasn't something he talked about with anyone, not even the people who knew what had been between him and Gabriel.

Jack would tell Lucio as much as he needed to gain access to that room and nothing beyond that.

"Gabriel and I knew each other before Overwatch even began. We were in the United States' Soldier Enhancement Program, that was where we met. When the First Omnic Crisis began, Gabriel got a group of soldiers together in order to help those who couldn't help themselves. We were..." Partners, friends, lovers, husbands... "...we were teammates. When the Crisis ended, I was appointed as the new Strike Commander of Overwatch. Gabriel was the commander of our black-ops unit; it was very hush-hush, not very many people knew about it. About eight years ago, Gabriel went on a mission and exposed the Blackwatch team to the public. It created a lot of problems and two years later, our base in Switzerland exploded." Jack is surrounded by fire and dust. He is bleeding, he is betrayed, he is undone. He cannot find Gabriel. "I thought Gabriel was dead. The world thought I was dead." He is alone. Always alone, wandering the shadows of the world as a ghost. "I met the Reaper for the first time in Cairo. He shot me in the back, revealed his identity, and then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Literally."

_"Right here, Jack!" **BANG.**_

Jack shook his head, the memories threatened to overwhelm him. "We have a _long_ history, kid. And a lot of it is not good. We've done a lot to hurt each other."

* * *

Lucio listened, filing away things to memory and trying to piece together what the files he had didn’t tell him. There was a lot he didn’t know, for sure. He'd vowed to do his best, even if he was still akin to an assistant-- a nurse practitioner, at best. But he was the only one in the medical area without a prior personal attachment to either of the two-- and so it was on him to make the calls, he supposed. Mr. Reyes seemed to have genuinely thought that Jack was dead. Perhaps knowing that he was alive and here would help.

“The glass in there is bulletproof for a reason. You can check your weapons at the door and wait just a sec before I call you in, okay?” He puffed up ever so slightly, putting his hands on his hips and gesturing to the two armed guards outside the door of the room. “I’ll only be a minute, so make your decision, Paul Bunyan. You’re gonna have to behave yourself, or else. History or not, he needs you. Be supportive.” With that, he turned, giving a nod to the guards as he passed by and re-entered the room.

\--

“Hey, again, Mr. Reyes. I’m back like I promised.” He announced himself again with a little friendly wave, moving over to his amplifier and plugged the datapad in, and within a few moments a little tune of jazz began to play-- soft like his piano playing, for now. He nestled the whole ensemble of gear into the corner of the room, out of the way of anything.

“So about that guy you mentioned. Mr. Morrison.” He approached the glass again, pressing his hand against it with care. “You said he died.”

He paused, the closed door behind him feeling like a steel trap about to close in. Too late, now. “I… did some _research._ You supersoldiers are tough bastards. I don’t think he’s as dead as you think he is.”

With that, he turned to the door, behind him, raising his voice a bit. _“Let him in!”_

* * *

Gabriel had remained curled in on himself while the kid stepped out. He wasn’t sure what he had gone to do, but the man knew that he didn’t particularly care to know.

As he waited, Reaper had shed his mask and furiously attempted to talk himself down from an anxiety episode. He was aware that he was being watched and yet..he couldn’t help it. Something in the kid’s music had stripped down his defenses and forced him to think of things that he had never wanted to.

When the DJ appeared again, Gabriel was quick about replacing his mask and shooting up into a standing position. He couldn’t appear weak again, he was on edge for any kind of tricks Overwatch would try to pull.

Every word out of the kid’s mouth rekindled the anger inside of him. Jack was dead, the vigilante that paraded around pretending to carry his numbers was nothing but a fake. That was not the man he loved. The kid called for them to bring “him” in...who was he?

Oh, Lucio did _not._.did he?

“The _hell_ are you talking about, kid? What kind of tricks are you playing with me, _eh?“_

* * *

Jack remembered that first night he and Gabriel had told each other how they felt. He remembered looking at the door to Gabriel's office and thinking it was the most intimidating thing he had ever seen. It felt the same to be standing outside the door to the ICU. Just with a dash more danger thrown in. Because what was waiting for Jack on the other side of that door is much worse than the possibility of rejection he faced all those years ago. On the other side of that door is the representation of all Jack's sins, all of his failures, and all of his pain.

And Lucio has just said he can go in. Like it's easy. Like it won't rip Jack apart, right down to his soul. When he walked into that room, who would he be? Was he Jack or Soldier76? Was he a man or a ghost?

There was no other way to find out than to go in and face this. It wouldn't be a fight with fists or bullets, but a war waged with words and all the guilt that Jack carried with him wherever he went. Jack and Soldier76 had never backed down from a fight; they didn't plan on starting to today.

Every step Jack took echoed like a thunderclap as he walked through the doorway. He was glad he'd left his visor on. Reaper was not going to get the satisfaction of seeing how much conflict was filling Jack at this moment. As soon as he's through the entrance to the room, Soldier76's eyes lock onto his target. That white mask taunted him, cold and evil, because he knew what was underneath it.

" _No tricks this time,_ " 76 growled. " _No tricks, no guns, nowhere to run and hide. Just you and me._ "


	4. Chapter 4

Lucio had strategically placed himself between himself and the glass-- knowing he might have to call for security all but a moment into Jack’s threat. His hand came up and out as Jack approached, that red visor doing nothing to stop how intimidating the asshole was. He puffed up again, the little DJ looking between the two in alarm. No!

“Hey!” He called out, his voice a loud bark. His hands came together, a loud clap! to get the American’s attention. “Absolutely Not! I said to check your attitude at the door, Paul Bunyan! I called you in here because you two need to fuckin’ talk. Not go at it like a couple of junkyard strays. I don’t care if you two were conjoined twins, you’re not gonna fight for dominance here. Now you can chill or you can leave, Mr. Morrison.”

He turned around, then, pointing a finger at Reaper. “And you! You’re in my care now whether you like it or not. I’m not playing any games, here. No tricks. And I’m not a kid. You two gotta work this _shit_ out!”

* * *

Gabriel growled at Lucio, low and threatening and just a bit upset because this kid fucking _tricked_ him. He let his guard down and opened up a little and this is what he got. Why did he have to bring in Soldier 76, of all _fucking_ people?

“I don’t ask for you to bring him in. I didn’t ask for your help. I just want to get out of here.” He sneered, pressing up against the glass and honestly wishing that he could break through it.

“You’re a goddamn kid compared to me.“ He turned his attention to Jack, glaring hard enough to kill.

“As if I needed more reasons to laugh today. Soldier 76 coming in and acting like he has a right to demand anything from me.”

* * *

Just barely, Soldier76 could see Reaper’s eyes through the mask. With his visor on, they look more red than ever. Red like blood, red like passion, red like an inferno; and all of it is directed at 76.

Lucio’s hand on his chest wouldn’t stop him, but he didn’t advance any further. He couldn’t afford to be thrown out now. This was what he had always wanted: his greatest enemy — his greatest haunting memory — caged and cornered. He would get the answers he needed, and the kid was not going to get in his way. Not if he knew what was good for him.

“Right, because I’m the one in a cell and you’re the one out here,” 76 sneered. “We both know you’re in some deep shit, Reaper. What’s your plan on getting out of this one, huh?” Reaper didn’t answer, just snarled at 76 through the glass. It was scary how powerful he felt in this moment. Until now, all of their encounters had been on Reaper’s terms, catching 76 by surprise. Not this time, though.

“I only want one fucking thing from you, and that’s answers.” The soldier pushed past Lucio’s hand then, stalking right up to the glass. He didn’t touch it, too riled up that he might punch it and break his fingers.

Their reflections lined up when they stared one another down. Red and blue on white and black. The colors of freedom, hope, celebration...and death. Wherever they went, however they met, death was always there.

“Who put you up to it? Who got in that little head of yours and told you to blow the base to hell?” 76 managed not to shout his questions, managed to keep his voice level and intimidating. Inside him, Jack Morrison is screaming. _Who told you to throw our family away? Who told you I didn’t love you? Why did you destroy the only place we could call home?_

* * *

Lucio leaned into Jack as he moved forward, an attempt at holding him back but alas, the little medic just wasn’t strong enough. He listened to them snarl and bicker to one another, taking a look at his music gear in the corner, playing that soft tune like nothing was wrong.

“Hey! No, no, _no!_ I said _enough! Stand down!_ ” The DJ yelled, this time, his usually chipper voice a bellowing sound, from the gut and all of his lungs— a tone and volume he hadn’t used since the Rio riots.

The door opened with the noise, the security guards peering threateningly within— ready to strike at the faintest hint of a command.

“I got you two back together to sort this shit out! I don’t care what sort of shit you two have gone through, you’ve gotta sort this out!” Lucio shoved his way between the two again, effectively pinning himself between the glass and Jack as he loomed so threateningly tall. A flash of green scrubs in between their color schemes. “Come on, Paul Bunyan, don’t make me call security in here!” His voice was strained, the little DJ putting his weight into pushing Jack away from the glass—straining his walking prosthetics. “You’re gonna undermine _everything_ I’ve done so far! He needs you here for him, not at his throat.” He held true to his original argument, with far more earnest fervor, however.

* * *

Gabriel scoffed loudly, hoping that it'd be loud enough for the old soldier to hear; it was his life's mission to piss off the man now, seeing as he couldn't do much else when he was more or less caged up. The ass was right that, unfortunately. He was in some deep shit and he honestly had no plan.

"You're not going to get any answers from me, old man. How's your back, huh?" He sneered in Jack's direction, ignoring the DJ's pleas for them to calm down.

The sight of Lucio trying to shove away a super soldier was hilarious and one of the best things he had seen lately. It wasn't working the best, of course, but the sight still amused him. At least he could take joy in knowing that other people had issues with Jack as well.

Lucio was wrong on one end, though. Gabriel didn't need anyone here for him.

"You're wrong _kid_ , I don't need him. I didn't need him when Overwatch was collapsing around us and I don't need him _now_. I don't need _anyone_."

* * *

Seething, Soldier76 moved away from the glass, away from Lucio, towards the chair sitting near the stereo. Soft music played a calming melody. It did nothing to ease his mind. He could still feel the gunshot, all that shrapnel piercing his back. Though that hadn't hurt nearly as bad as the words that had come after it. All this time, 76 had thought he'd been taking on his mission of revenge for Gabriel.

Gabriel who Talon had killed; Gabriel who was dead; Gabriel who had been ripped away from Jack's arms with no time for a goodbye. It had all been for him and it had all been for nothing. Gabriel had betrayed Jack and gotten turned into the shadow of the man he loved. 76 could content himself with the fact that while he may have been a ghost, and perhaps not a "good" man, he wasn't a monster.

He could feel Reaper staring at his back, and his scars ached. Everything inside 76 ached, his heart worst of all; though he blamed Jack for that --- sentimental idiot. Gabriel is dead, he reminds himself while his heart pangs. The Reaper has his body, his voice, his eyes, but that is not Gabriel. Don't forget that.

Jack didn't seem to be listening, or maybe it was just that he didn't care. Soldier76 had been created out of Jack's guilt, born of his sins, was the mask Jack wore to bring justice to those who had upended his world. One of those people was sitting inside a glass cell, completely at 76's mercy (except for the kid who kept trying to stop him). But he was also Jack's husband, and Jack still loved him. Desperately.  
He gripped the back of the chair hard, trying not to throw it at something. Lucio's heart was in the right place, but he had no idea of what kind of hell he'd unleashed on Jack's mind and his heart. This wasn't a situation that could be solved by talking, not anymore. The fight between Soldier76 and the Reaper would end one way and one way only. But even so...

"If you didn't need me you never should have married me." Jack wouldn't have traded those years he had with Gabriel for all the world, no matter how much pain it brought him to think of them now. But if Gabriel hadn't needed Jack as much as Jack had needed him, then what had been the _point?_

* * *

Lucio stayed where he was, furrowing his brow and holding his palm out in case Paul Bunyan tried to get up and charge as he seemed to back off. He nodded at the security guard who’d peered in the door, to which the door shut once more. This was under control. Yeah. Under control. They just had to say what they had to say and not kill each other in the process. It was easy! On paper.

He understood that he’d never know the extent of the depth between the two, but he did know that everyone had issues to work through. He regretted not reconciling with his father before he’d been killed. And he knew his father had regrets on the state of his mother when she got sick. He knew full well what regret did to a person-- and how it was important to get things out before they spiralled. Where he couldn’t be helped, he knew these two could. And so if he had to play remediator, he would. He’d arm himself with a squirt bottle, if he had to.

Never did he think his role as a combat medic would turn into marriage counseling. His lip pushed into a pout, coming to lean against the glass and crossing his arms over his chest, and crossing his prosthetics at his ankles. He wasn’t going _anywhere._

* * *

Reaper glanced towards Lucio briefly, noting the pout on the man's lips. If he wanted to pout, Gabriel would give him something to really pout about, honestly. There was anger flowing through his veins that he had not felt in a while, something that was fueling the nearly uncontrollable urge to destroy and leave nothing for them to recover.

"Sometimes I wish I hadn't married you, Jack Morrison. You're the reason why Overwatch failed, you're the reason why I was pushed into this. Whenever I need a reminder as to why I'm still doing this I imagine your pathetic face and know that you're why I'm doing this. You're the reason why everything fell apart."

* * *

"Jack Morrison is _dead_ ," 76 hissed. "His sins and his failures are mine but the Strike Commander is gone. He died six years ago under a burning husk of a home you and Talon destroyed."

Soldier76 turns back to the glass, to Reaper, hands twitching as they were wont to do when he was anxious and had no way of defending himself. Reaper may be contained for the moment, but the Soldier had seen too much to trust the confines of any cell to be inescapable.

"You've decided to take the image of one man who failed you and use that as justification for murdering innocents? And you call me the pathetic one? Look in the goddamn mirror, you bastard, and tell me who the real failure is."

* * *

"That dammed base was never a home!" Reaper spit, his eyes forming slits as he stares the other man down. "Overwatch was never a family. There was too much mistrust, too many betrayals. Too many lies that you fed us."

His anger boils over, and he takes one of the small pillows only to rip it in half. He had to break something, honestly, had to do something with his hands since they had taken away his weapons.

"No one I've killed is innocent. Please, do your research before you look into my kill count. They all _deserved_ it."

* * *

_It was our home! It was the place where our family was, and you gave it all up!_ Jack wants to rush back out into this fight. To scream all of his emotional baggage into Reaper's face. 76 won't let him, this is not a time for vulnerability. His greatest enemy stands before him, red eyes flashing as much as the visor that stares back.

"It was you who began those betrayals, if you'll recall. When things didn't go your way, you went straight to the enemy. The same enemy who had Gerard killed and Amelie brainwashed. The same enemy who believes the strong have the right to do as they please with those they say are weak. Is that what some of your victims were guilty of? Being to weak, in your eyes, to survive?"

* * *

Lucio... had heard enough. He'd remained where he was, arms crossed over his chest. The two arguing reminded him of his own parents— bickering over the past before his mother had gotten sick. But now...

He spoke up, stepping forward and turning to look at Reyes in the glass room, and then back over at Jack from where he’d backed off. “Alright. Enough.” He held up his hands, palms out, one directed at Jack and the other to Gabriel. “As the acting officiate here I’m going to step in.” He didn’t know the whole story. How could he? He’d been a child when their traumas came to light.

“Mr. Morrison, I’ve read your file from Athena. You’ve killed people, too. But that doesn’t make you a bad person.” He turned to Gabriel, then, his head cocking slightly. “And I’ve read what I could of you, too, Mr. Reyes. So what if you worked for Talon? People make mistakes and by the looks of your condition, you’ve paid for it, haven’t you?”

His attention turned to Jack once more. “I know you guys have a lot of issues. But he needs you, dude. Set aside the hate for five minutes and look at what he’s become. Does he look like the guy you remember? I bet not. I can tell there’s still something between you two. Let me help you fix it.”

His head turned to look back at Gabriel. “I’m going to help you, whether you like it or not. You’re in a lot of pain that’ll only get worse if you don’t cooperate. I don’t want you to waste away. Nobody deserves that.” He pressed his palm to the glass, before fishing in his pocket and holding up the keycard needed to get into the little glass room between two fingers. “Now, Mr. Reyes, will you sit still for me so that I can check out those cybernetics that Talon ‘gave’ you?”

* * *

76 grinds his teeth when Lucio steps in. The kid really doesn't get it, there is no way he can even come close to understanding what is between the two of them. This is more than a simple disagreement or a lovers' quarrel. This is war. This isn't something that can be fixed by bringing them into the same room and hashing out all their problems. Reaper and 76 will end this fight in one way and one way only. It's almost laughable for Lucio to think he can fix them, that they need each other. Whatever used to be between them is dead, a ghost of a feeling. Just like them. The only consolation in this whole fucked up situation for 76 is that the kid's heart is in the right place.

The mention of cybernetics draws 76's attention. In all of his years of hunting Reaper down, the soldier has never found any indication of the wraith having _cybernetic enhancements_. Though he supposes Talon would always want their best fighter in tip-top shape, crazed bastards that they are. But the way that Lucio says it --- the disgusted emphasis on the word "gave" --- makes Jack Morrison morbidly curious. He stands back, waiting to see what Reaper will allow the medic to do.

* * *

"Every person I have killed has deserved it, Morrison. Don't assume that you know anything about me anymore--let alone the way I operate. You lost that privilege when you turned on me. Everyone did.” Reaper’s so angry it’s blinding him, wiping everything else out of view as it zeros in on Soldier. Then, miraculously, there’s a light—that Lucio kid, stepping in between them literally halts any other venomous words lingering on the tip of his tongue.

“There shouldn’t have been anything for you to read.” He spits it, glaring hard at the younger male. Still, the words give him thoughts he would rather not pay attention to. Paid for his mistakes? Clearly, he hadn’t paid for them enough with the way Jack is glaring at him. No, he deserved so much more than the pain he suffered every day.

One harsh breath turns into three as he steps back. The kid really was trusting him that much to share the same space as one of Talon’s top assasins? Idiotic. Though something was prickling at the back of his mind, telling him to give it a chance—the pain could end, potentially. Besides, no one would tell on him if he did let the medic in, let him close enough to str— close enough to examine.

“If he stays out.” Is his harsh reply, the strain clear in his voice.

* * *

"Alright, alright, guys. Enough. Let's move forward." Lucio intervened at the taunts and the threats, looking to the two and holding up his hands. Peace.

"You have my word, Mr. Reyes." He held up his right hand, smiling honestly-- genuinely, moving to the door and throwing a glance at Jack. "You're welcome to stay in the room if you'd like. You guys are married, after all. But just gotta stay outta the glass area, okay?" Nomatter what, he wanted to add. His voice was calm, warm, trusting.

He scanned the keycard at the security pad, the computer taking a moment to authenticate the clearance before a last beep flashed a success in green. The vacuum door unsealed, and the DJ pushed it open, letting himself inside before the door shut hard behind him-- vacuum-sealing the two in. He stuffed the keycard back in his pocket, before he turned to the Reaper before him-- fearless despite the warnings he'd been given repeatedly. Everybody deserved second chances, after all. He trusted Athena, and he trusted Jack. But most importantly, he had to trust Gabriel Reyes in front of him. The medic was unarmed, after all.

"Alright, Mr. Reyes." He put his hands together in front of him, lacing his fingers together in an enthusiastic manner. "I'll need you to take off your jacket for me. Can you reach it and get it off so I can take a look at it? Or do you need some help?"

* * *

_This kid is either an idiot or a cunning son of a bitch,_ 76 muses. It’s a harsh thought, but dos Santos isn’t someone he knows well enough to make an accurate judgement of motive. In 76’s line of work, eyes that trusted as Lucio’s did were blind eyes. To step into a container with the world’s most deadly terrorist with nothing more than a promise? It’s the kind of risk he was trained never to take. If the kid didn’t get hurt or damn near killed on this fool’s errand then it could only mean one of two things. One, Reaper was going soft (un-fucking-likely), or two, there was a slight possibility — minuscule, impossible, one Jack Morrison will not let go of — that someone else still lives behind that mask.

Lucio may have told him to stay out, but 76 will intervene if necessary. He’ll observe, watch and wait, if or until there comes an opportune moment to strike.

* * *

A sickly sweet smile rests on his face as he flips Jack the bird; the old soldier probably expected him to falter, to go off the edge and slaughter the poor kid right there. Unfortunately for that blonde pompus ass, he had no intention of attacking Lucio. At least not yet.

"I can do it myself, _kid._ "

And true to his word, Gabriel strips off his heavy jacket. It weighed more than some people he knew, and just having the heavy combat armor off lifted literal weight off of his shoulders.

* * *

As Gabriel stripped, Lucio let him be, true to his word as he stooped down and rolled up the cuff of his scrubs just a little-- so that the fabric wouldn't get caught in his prosthetics, watching the jacket and the armor come off and land on the ground with a heavy thud. He hadn't said anything to the middle finger that was thrown, but he gave the man as stern a look as he could manage. Which... wasn't very threatening.

_Were all americans so big?_

He was gentle as he approached, his hands warm as he moved to Gabriel's back and softly ran his fingers over the area of the cybernetic spine.

He took note of the scars-- many of them. Running deep and jagged and harsh. He noticed the way that the cybernetics seemed as though they were simply a part of him-- like exposed bone. He could already tell that it was heavy, and so deeply engrained that it would likely take more than one surgery to free the man.

"Do you remember anything of what they did? He asked, pulling out his phone and using the flashlight to peer inside, his fingers gently tracing the circuitry, and hoping that his music outside the room would be enough of a painkiller, for now.

* * *

Gabriel flinched once, maybe twice as Lucio studied at his back. It didn’t hurt terribly, no more than usual, but it seemed the pain was dulled a little with the soft music continuing in the background. Could the kid possibly give him that to go? He’d kill whatever enemies the young DJ had if he could keep the melodic painkiller with him at all times.

“Nothing. No memories of it. I woke up and they were there.”

A simple, monotone answer as Gabriel tried to force the memories away of how exactly things had gone when he had woken up reborn as Reaper. It wasn’t something he liked thinking about, let alone actually admitting those things aloud.

* * *

Jack's visor had been a prototype project when he'd stolen it from Watchpoint: Grand Mesa. Much of the programming and refinements to the instrument were things Jack had figured out himself. Originally, it had been strictly for recon, to see into dark corners and pick out important information. When Jack had realized just how bad his eyes had gotten, the visor had become his solution to keeping his vision, and keeping him alive by extension. It makes his sight 20/20; can take thermal, movement, and night vision readings; and, of course, the built in targeting system. Soldier76 has lived the last six years fully relying on it's precision and accuracy to accomplish his mission.

In the moment Reaper removes his coat, 76 wishes the damn thing wasn't so good at picking up on every little thing. The wraith's back is a mess of circuitry, metal plating, and scars. He'd thought that metal was part of the long black duster not --- not wired into skin and muscle. Jack knows about half of the scars, slightly raised off the skin and pale. Others are shinier, angrier, grotesque...new. Jack had never mapped those scars with kisses to take the pain away like he had with all the others.

 _Jesus Christ_ , what had they **_done_** to him?  
The better question was why? It was clear upon reflection that whatever was in those metal fixtures was putting Reaper in significant pain (strange that the thought doesn't bring 76 satisfaction in this moment). Or were they to help alleviate the pain? Though, if that were true, shouldn't Reaper be able to adjust the amount of pain he was in somehow? No, that didn't make any sense; Lucio's tone of disgust when asking to see still reverberates in 76's mind. Clearly, this device is meant to keep Reaper in pain. Though that conclusion leads to yet another why?

Why would Talon keep their top agent in pain? Heart freezing with horror --- with traitorous hope, for some reason --- 76 feels like he might already know. Classic torture technique: condition a subject to expect pain when/if they disobey. Talon must be afraid of what Reaper would do to them if he wasn't on a leash. Which would imply that Reaper wasn't a willing participant in Talon's arsenal.

Which leads Jack to the impossible, yet blessed, conclusion that somewhere behind the mask, Gabriel Reyes is still alive. That he may have walked into Talon's arms, may have betrayed Jack, but he is fighting to walk out. Could he be working as a double agent, working to take Talon down from the inside? It would be a very “Gabriel” thing to do.  
When had Gabriel woken up from being Reaper? How recently? Was he awake now? Did Gabriel hate Jack as much as Reaper hated Soldier76?

All of the questions the soldier had planned on asking fall away into nothing. All he wants to know now is if Gabriel is back, if Jack has one more chance to rebuild what he had destroyed. But he has no words, no voice, to ask these things. Instead, he stands and watches Lucio work, eyes trained on…the ghost of a man who could slowly come back to life.

* * *

He hummed in understanding to the augmented killer. He knew in his own little way what it meant to be roped into something that changed your life for the worse. He’d have to have Athena do a detailed scan so that he could precisely see what connected where— and what to do.

“Athena.” He called into the air, to which the AI responded, her voice as chipper as always.

> _"Yes?"_

  
“Could you take a scan of Mr. Reyes’ back for me? I have to see deeper in and I don’t wanna nick anything outta place. The spinal cord is a very tumultuous place.”

> _"Absolutely, Lucio. Mr. Reyes, please hold still."_

  
At that, a holographic scan began about the little room, Lucio taking a step away for a moment to let Athena get a better look.

> _"I have forwarded the images to your personal datapad."_

  
“Thanks.” A pause, his hands roaming over Gabriel’s back again. “If you don’t remember anything, that’s okay. It’ll probably take me a while to figure out all the different layers here. It’ll definitely be a few sessions. Maybe a surgery or two. But I’m gonna do my homework and you’ll be better in no time, okay?” He smiled, moving to sit in front of Gabriel with a toothy, dimpled grin. “And if the tunes help you out, I’ll keep addin’ to the playlist and I’ll leave the setup here. Sound good?” 

* * *

The soldier's eyes never leave the pair, watching them closely, though not in the manner he first expected. He assumed he would be watching the Reaper for any sudden moves, any inkling that the wraith had a plan to escape or to harm the medic with him. Now, he watches with hopeful intensity, though neither can see that expression behind the red glint of the visor.

It's terrifying that he wants them to see, wants to take off the visor and leave his face bare to the world and it's harsh gaze. For the first time in years, he wants the mask off, blind as it will leave him. He longs for Gabriel --- the desperate clinging hope that he's alive never abating --- to see his face. Even if he can never forgive him, at least Jack can prove to him that the man he'd loved wasn't entirely lost. That the golden man he had been was gone forever.

But at what cost? There is no guarantee that Gabriel is alive behind that bone-white mask. If 76 gives up his own mask, reveals his face, lets the emotions play across his scars and haggard features, and the Reaper is all that remains...he'll have bared himself for nothing. Be flayed alive by his greatest enemy. No, the risk is too great. And yet, the scarred back just beyond the glass taunts him.

The music chooses this moment to filter into his senses. A calm, easy melody that reminds Jack of —  
 _"Come on, Boy Scout. It's time you learned how to dance."_

_"I do know how to dance, Gabe!"_

_"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that so I don't have to bring up, yet again, the 'dance contest' you entered when we were in the SEP."_

_"I wasn't that bad."_

_"Mi amor, I will forgive you many things, but your dancing skills appall me."_

_"It's not like you do any better. All you did was stand on the sidelines and tap your foot!"_

_"I was saving a special dance for you, mi sol."_

_"Ugh, you are a sap."_

Their laughter fades into memory and Jack's chest suddenly feels too _tight_. He should leave, go _right now_ , before he gets any worse. The longer he stays the more he will remember, and Soldier76 had been created to avenge the past; he does not live in it. He is only supposed to think of the people who destroyed what he had built and how he will end them. He is not supposed to remember warm smiles and dark eyes and soft hair hidden under a beanie that always begged to be played with.

Jack is rooted to his spot on the floor and he cannot breathe, and he cannot show anything. He just has to simply stand, like a rusting and broken statue, and wait for it to pass. It will pass — it must pass — and then he can get out of here. Damn the kid for bringing him here. Damn himself for hoping. Damn all of this, _he should have never come home._


End file.
